Over there, Over here

Dear Grandma,


Over there, I feel the heat of your kisses spreading,

Forming a path from the side of my forehead to the crevice of my neck

Claiming me yours, claiming you mines.

The breeze tousling my hair in a desperate attempt to reach your kiss,

To feel something other than emptiness.


Over here, I feel the cold underside of my pillow

Hiding the stains of tears that only its wet spots could reveal

The sun peeking through my window, wanting to play hide and seek

In a world already full of deceit.


Over there, I feel the wind cling onto my skin

Sucking on my flesh, making it plump and red,

Guiding me towards a feeling of ecstasy;

A cry of rejuvenation;

A shudder of release.


Here, I feel the embrace of Death,

Prickling my body with empty promises,

Enticing me into mischief and rebellion,

Fooling me with a tender kiss on the cheek.


Rendering Life envious,

Rendering me into a fate of servitude…


                        …to the poisonous melody of Death;

                        …to the melancholic cries of Life.


Over there, I become shielded by the clingy grass,

Weaved into the cultural hymns,

Brushed against the calluses of neglect,

Injected into tales falling from ghostly eyes.

Welcomed into a past that drums within my veins.


Here, I seek comfort in the darkness.

I seek solace in the contortions of my own mind when the rest of the world shuts down.

I choose to abandon a dehumanized society created by the delicate touch of life,

But lead by the brutally charming appearance of Death.


Over there, I feel at home.

Over here, I feel so foreign.

Over there, I do not know the word alone.

Over here, it seems to follow me everywhere I go.

Over there, I know the battle and reward of life.


Yet, over here, even hidden under the cloak of fiction

And cushioned by the protective arm of my mom,

I fall to my knees, weak,

At the promise of something more, something you never had.


Rendering me into a fate of servitude…

                        …to the poisonous melody of Death;

                        …to the melancholic cries of Life.






This poem is about: 
My family
My country
Our world


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